


Senseless

by notjamesbond



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Flirting, I'm scared to write sin, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjamesbond/pseuds/notjamesbond
Summary: Six months following an incident that almost cost you your life, you find yourself participating in an exchange Arts Program in Paris, France. Not only do you struggle to pick up the pieces, but begin to regret impulsively moving all the way to Paris. Perhaps the insane temptation of those emerald eyes, tail, and flirtatious personality would make your move a bit easier.





	1. Metros and Models

**Author's Note:**

> So...really I'm kind of winging this. All I know is that the feels for this fandom were too much, and...voilà! This chapter is more like a test to see how the rest of the story may pan out, as well as character development. (if) By any chance, someone reads this and happens to want to beta this story, please comment or chuck a msg to my Tumblr (which I'll link below!), it would mean so so so much.

_Chapter One_

_ [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ao3notjamesbond) _

  
_“Save him!”_

You collapsed at his side, watching the colour drain from his face. Panic had well-risen and seeped deep into your bones. You tried to do something…_anything._

_“Please.”_

You looked over his body to the woman standing over you, her lips pressed in a tight line and darkened eyes.

_“Can’t you do that?”_

She doesn’t respond, a solemn shadow cast across the woman’s face answered your pleas. You felt an arm curl around your waist, tugging you backwards. Your cries were drowned out by the sounds of sirens.

_“It’s time to go,”_ a voice said in your ear, _“please, we have to go.”_

You fought against their hold, attempting to pry yourself out of their reach; but it was in vain. _“No!”_  
They called your name again but expected no response, so the hold on your waist tightened. You threw your weight against theirs, tears clouding your vision. _You couldn’t leave him._

_“We can’t leave him.”_ You sobbed. _“I promised.”_

You reached out, cupping his cheek softly. The sirens grew closer and you knew you were running out of time, there was never enough time. A lock of hair fell over his forehead with the wind. His faded eyes stared up at the clouded sky, a colour you would never be able to forget.

The woman crouched down to close his eyes but you were quick to react. _“Stay _away_ from him.”_ You seethed, slapping her hand away from his face. You could feel her eyes boring into the side of your face but you didn’t care. She couldn’t save him.

The grip on your waist tightened again, pulling you upwards and away. The sirens were beginning to drown your thoughts. This was never meant to happen, you were never meant to get involved. You never wanted him to get involved. You screamed his name as if he were due to awaken but to no avail. As you were lifted further away from him, your cries became desperate. Tears streamed down your face like a river flowing steadily after a storm and the woman proceeded to close his eyes; letting him rest.

Exhaustion hit your body like a truck and you let your body get carried away. The woman looked at you, her face pale. _How did it all come to this?_

**=======**  
**Fourteen Months Earlier **  
**=======**

A golden hue illuminated your apartment, bringing a comforting warmth with it. You strode across the room, carrying a cardboard box in your arms, the contents rattled softly as you placed the box on your desk. Pulling out folders and books, you organised the stationery on the shelves beside your desk, the light from the sun shining through the window highlighted the dust particles floating around the room. The particles flew around crazily as you crossed their path before settling down on the shelves with the rest of the dust. Music emitted softly from your laptop, helping you settle into a steady pace of unpacking. There was much to do, but you felt as though it was something you would complete over time.

Satisfied with your bedroom being mostly unpacked, you paused the music and took a seat at your desk. You proceeded to look up the metro station and which lines to take, the complexity of the website make your stomach churn anxiously. _Surely it got easier with time._  
Sighing, you wrote down the times and lines you needed to take in order to get to the University. _Oh, right!_ You are in _Paris_! Six months ago, you made the impulsive decision to participate in a foreign exchange program and you found yourself in Paris, France! The camera gear bundled up in a box under your bed was enough for anyone to know you specialised in Photography. Classes started the next day, but you wanted to figure out how to get there today in case you ran into troubles the next day.

Hugging your coat close to your body, your feet felt heavy as you left your apartment; locking it. Before you made the move to Paris, you had talked yourself in and out of the idea so many times it was exhausting. This was the most impulsive thing you had done…but desperate times call for desperate measures. As you left the apartment complex, reality hit you. _You were in_ _Paris_. You had _no idea_ what you were doing.

Your palpitating heart began to whisper to your mind, filling it with anxiety. Thoughts of regret. You were _alone…in Paris._

Your thoughts were interrupted as your shoulder collided briefly with a stranger, murmuring apologies you turned to get a look at them. But they were already on their way, unfazed by the collision.

=======

  
The metro was huge and confusing, not to mention stressful. You used signs and attempted to ask for help from locals, despite the language barrier. Eventually, you found the right line and hopped aboard. Putting in your earphones, music granted your mind the feeling of peace, even if it was only temporary. Your body swayed with the movement of the vehicle, inertia throwing you to the side a little as it came to a stop. A few people got off, but it wasn’t your turn yet. Your music was interrupted as a familiar ringtone shrilled.

“Hello?” You greeted.

The voice of your mother called your name, your heart aching at the sound.

_“Have you started unpacking?”_

You hummed in response, “I’m just taking the metro to the University now, in case something happens tomorrow.”  
She agreed from the other side of the line, asking if you had eaten and how your flight was. You had to spend the majority of the flight thinking about what you had to do once you got to Paris, but instead told her you slept the majority of the flight. For a moment, silence blanketed the conversation, waiting for the other to break it.

_“How are you doing?”_ You tensed.

“Fine,” you said quietly, “just getting used to everything.”

_“You know that’s not what I meant.”_ But you knew that and that frustrated you. A lot. She spoke your name softly multiple times before you answered.

“I need to do this,” you spoke, “I needed to start fresh.”

The sound of her sighing heavily told you that you were going to have this conversation again. Your grip on your phone tightened, your fingers just itching to press the hang-up button.

_“But moving to Paris?”_ She questioned, her tone heightened, _“it’s a bit much, isn’t it?”_

Your jaw set, you looked around at the vehicle compartment; your stop was coming up. “I’m not changing my mind now-”

_“You shouldn’t have left.”_ She interrupted sharply, _“you’re not ready.”_

Snorting, you lowered your head and glared at your shoes. “You don’t get to decide when I’m ready.” The words struck hard and deep, exactly what you wanted.

_“If I hadn’t before, you wouldn’t be here.”_

Her retaliation made your mind turn into putty. _Of course, _she would bring that up now. You knew she was only worried about you, trying to help. But you needed to get away, you couldn’t stand the way everyone looked at you back home anymore. It was too much. A bell sounded out throughout the compartment, the name of your stop appeared on a screen above the doors.

“I have to go.” You said flatly, contemplating leaving it at that, “I’ll call you later.” You disconnected the line before she could respond, even all the way in Paris it still hurt too much. You were literally running away from your problems.  
Gathering your items, you stepped off the platform and found yourself in the bustling centre of Paris. A large building stood proud a few hundred meters away, across a few roads and your journey began.

Your thoughts were distracted, the recent conversation has thrown you into a zone of nostalgia. The thought of labelling how you felt frustrated you because it meant people automatically labelled you. You had always been anxious, but when you started to feel flat…that’s when shit hit the fan. Six months ago, you overdosed. It caught everyone off guard, including yourself because you didn’t realise how desperate you were until you woke up in hospital; your mother waiting by your side. You remember the way she looked at you when you woke, her eyes heavy and bloodshot. She had aged in the 72 hours you were unconscious and it didn’t do her any justice.  
Tears resurfaced with old feelings and you shook your head as if the memories would suddenly disappear. You could only wish. You were never an addict, it was an act of hysterical desperation that pushed you too far. _Maybe if you had asked for help…_

_ **No.** _

What’s done is done. You were in Paris, standing in front of the Arts and Design University. Craning your neck to take in the majestic sight that was the University, you drank in the beauty. This is what you came for. Not to remember, but to heal. To forget. Satisfied that you could make your way to University again the next day, you explored the area more. You were drawn into a bakery near the Seine, the store selling a wide variety of amazing delicacies.

You left the store with a bag full of treats, munching on a macaroon.

“I’m finally up to date with the blog-“ A conversation grew closer to you until seriously collided. You jumped back from the person, her face contorting into one of worry.

_“Désolé! Désolé!”_ The girl cried and placed a hand on your shoulder, “are you okay?” Before you stood a gorgeous Martinique Creole-French girl, her hazel eyes searching your face for a response.

“I’m fine! I’m sorry,” you laughed and returned the gesture, “I should have been watching where I was going.” The girl laughed and her friend beside her nudged her. Beside her stood a girl with fair skin and dark hair with blue reflections.

“My name is Alya and this is Marinette,” the brunette explained and gestured to the blue-eyed girl next to her. You smiled at the girl widely and greeted her. You said your name to the girls, the collision incident long forgotten.

“Are you travelling?” Alya questioned, “how long have you been in Paris?” You proceeded to explain the foreign exchange program at the Arts and Design University. The girls’ faces lit up with recognition.

“We go there too,” Marinette chirped, “I think I’m responsible for your orientation tomorrow.” Relief flooded your veins.

You exchanged numbers with the girls, bidding them farewell until tomorrow. Marinette and Alya were both students at the University; studying Fashion Design and Media respectively. You felt a little better knowing that you would know at least two people there tomorrow. Thank god that worked out for you.

=======

Orientation went smoothly the next day, Marinette showed you around the majority of the University and delved into the history of the building years and years before it was established as a University. The girl eagerly answered all your questions and along with Alya, accompanied you at lunch. The innocent feeling of feeling like a small fish in a ginormous pond was thrilling. You had almost forgotten that you never called your mother back.

  
“So,” Alya started and propped her chin in the palm of her hand, “do you have to do practical units for the photography course?”

You nodded, finishing a mouthful of food. “I do. I was set up to work with an industry focusing on Fashion Design,” you explained to her, spiking Marinette’s interest.

“Which one?” Marinette asked and you shrugged, the name hiding at the back of your mind. Too vague to remember.

“All I know is that the designer is a Mr Agreste?”

Alya sat across from you and you watched the girl roll her eyes, sighing. Marinette, on the other hand, grabbed your upper arm and squeezed it.

_“I work there!”_ Marinette’s grip tightened on your arm._ Ouch, what was she? Hulk or something?_

“How did you even manage to get a spot there?” Alya asked, her confused face focused on her best friend, “I heard they hardly employ newbies.”

“You’re telling me,” you exasperated. Alya smirked at your reaction, muffling a laugh. “I think I had to submit my resumé half a dozen times, and that doesn’t even _begin_ to include the interviews.”

“Wait, Gabriel Agreste interviewed you?” The brunette furrowed her brows and you shook your head.

“About half a dozen assistants did, though.” You took a swig of your water, thinking back to the strenuous process. The interviews were fairly repetitive, but you had to submit new photographs with each submission; some had to comply with a theme, others were custom content.

To be honest, you never expected to get the position. You didn’t get your hopes up, the universe didn’t owe you anything. Gabriel Agreste didn’t owe you anything.

“Well, everyone there is really nice,” Marinette spoke up, releasing her iron-clad grip on your arm still lingered and you had to refrain from rubbing the spot she previously held. You appreciated Marinette’s attempts to excite you, and it was working.

“It’s Gabriel Agreste, Marinette,” Alya started with a look. Marinette looked between you and Alya bashfully. Sighing, her shoulders sagged a little.

“He’s a busy man, Alya.” The girl defended, “it may be tricky working under Mr Agreste, but it’s definitely worth the trouble.”

“That’s understandable.” You nodded simply, Marinette’s smile widened.

“_Speaking of trouble…_” Alya teased indirectly, her eyes fixated behind you and Marinette. Only you turned around to follow her gaze. Two figures were walking your way, one waving in Alya’s direction. You turned back around to face Alya, your questioning look ignored at the brunette scooted over on her side of the table to make room for the two people. As they slid next to Alya, Marinette nudged you.

You leaned closer to her. “That’s Adrien,” Marinette said quietly, “Mr Agreste’s son.”

_“Ah.”_ You hummed and looked over at one of the students sitting across from you. He was leaning into his friend, participating in a conversation with Alya and Nino. He looked like a goddamn model._ He probably is, stupid._ The blond-haired boy ran a hand through his hair, creating a perfect mess. His emerald green eyes bounced between his friends as they conversed, his body shook with laughter every now and then.

“_Why does he strike me as the kind of person the universe likes to coddle?”_ You whispered to Marinette, earning a snort in return. She tried to stifle a laugh, pushing you with her elbow. Come on, who is that good-looking?

Marinette’s snort caught the attention of the other three, their eyes travelling between you and Marinette.

“Adrien, Nino…” Alya introduced you and you gave a small wave at the two guys sitting across from you. Nino had dark brown hair and amber eyes, and he wore a set of headphones around his neck. Alya leaned into Nino, her shoulder against his and you smiled to yourself. Cute.

“Adrien does visual arts and Nino does Media with Alya,” Marinette added and you looked at her, nodding. _So the model liked to draw?_ You noticed the blond looking at you and met his eyes, the striking emerald colour catching you off-guard. You always admired artists, being able to create amazing pieces of work with something as simple as a lead pencil. He smiled friendly at you and your stomach flipped. Returning the smile, you noticed Adrien opened his mouth to talk to you but a siren beeped out over the cafeteria. Students began to move towards their classes, others walking to the exit if they had no more classes.

Fortunately, today was a short day for you so you gathered your things in preparation to leave.

“Got plans this afternoon?” Alya asked as she slung her bag over her shoulders. You adjusted the strap of your messenger bag, briefly running through today’s date and the date of your orientation.

“Yeah, I have my orientation this afternoon at Agreste _Fashion Co._” You reached into your bag and pulled out a thin file, “I even have my resume and a sample portfolio on standby.” Adrien paused what he was doing, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

“What? Incase they hired the wrong person?” Nino laughed and you nodded bashfully, urging more laughter out of him. Rolling your eyes at him, you bid farewell to your new friends and made your way towards the exit.

  
It wasn’t a long walk to your destination, nor was it hard to find. A sleek building stood proud over the rest, a poster on the front wall was a closeup of Adrien. As you neared the building, you let his eyes bore into yours until you had passed the photograph, you nerves calming down a little. The receptionists were polite and you took a seat while they paged your supervisor. You read over your documents, playing out multiple scenarios in your mind. What was your supervisor going to be like? Strict? Nice? Age? You didn’t have to wait long as footsteps echoed into the waiting room, stopping at the entrance to the room.

You looked up at the person who called your name politely. You met a pair of dark-blue eyes and a bright smile. _What are the _chances? No, it wasn’t Marinette, as you made the comparison of eye colour. At the doorway stood a tall guy, his masculine build balanced out with his height. He smiled down at you, his blue eyes looked over your face.

“Hey, you’re the new photographer, right?” He greeted, narrowing his eyes slightly. You nodded, smiling at the blond. You repeated your name softly and he nodded in recognition.

“Dacre Anderson.” He held his hand out and you took it, gently shaking his hand. Dacre looked to be of similar age and handsome at that. Not as handsome as the green-eyed model you met earlier, but still handsome. You tsked to yourself, how inappropriate.

Dacre leads you down the hallway to a large open-plan office with multiple desks. He showed you to your assigned desk, the furniture empty and seated situated next to his. You were introduced to two other people in the room, the fifth desk empty in the large office.

“You’re going to get sick of us real fast,” Trixie, an editor teased from behind her desk. Trixie had a pixie cut dyed a pastel pink. Her makeup highlighted her jawline and made her brown eyes pop. You looked over at the girl, smiling widely at her.

“It’s her first day, Trix,” Skye groaned from his desk. Skye was another editor and hid from behind his computer screen. His sleek, black hair was pulled back into a messy bun. His amber eyes looked over his computer at Trixie, the lenses of his glasses reflected the photograph he was editing. “Ease off, yeah?”

Trixie proceeds to flip the boy off, Dacre scowling, albeit amused at their exchange. You swivelled around in your chair, looked up at the blond who leaned on the frame of the doorway. He rolled his eyes before looking at you, a lop-sided smirk plastered across his features.

  
Much like Uni, the orientation process was fairly straight-forward and easy-going. Dacre made sure to show you to every room, especially ones of importance.

“So this is the break room,” Dacre exaggerated a flourish towards the small cafeteria. You laughed as poked your head into the empty room. Round tables and chairs were scattered around the large room. Towards one end, brightly colour lounges and bean-bags were placed around a red carpet. Alongside on wall was benches, a fridge and other cooking appliances.

“I can see myself cooking some tasty noodles here,” you commented and suddenly felt a craving for Mie Goreng. You made a mental note to make that for dinner when you got back to your apartment. Your thoughts were interrupted when Dacre’s phone rang, excusing himself.

As you made your way back to your office, you took in the simple yet elegant beauty of the building. You were preoccupied you almost didn’t notice yet another blond walking around the corner.

_“Shit, désolé!”_ Adrien cursed. He placed his hands on your upper arms, preventing a collision. You weren’t sure whether your heart was racing due to the jump-scare or the close proximity to the model.

“My bad,” you apologised and he refused, shaking his head softly. His soft-grip remained on your upper arms for a moment longer before reality drew you back in. He watched as you cleared your throat and put a little distance between the two of you. A light shade of red freckled his cheeks, travelling down his neck.

Peering behind Adrien, you noticed Skye was no longer in the office and Trixie remained at her desk; focused. The blond noticed your shift and smiled warmly.

“Do you like it here?” He asked, catching your attention again.

“So much,” You beamed, “Dacre was just showing me around the rest of the building.” Adrien raised his brows a little, his eyes crinkling at the sides to accompany a soft smile.

“Dacre’s your supervisor?” You nodded. “Looks like we’re in the same complex.” _The fifth desk…_

“Wait, why are you in Dacre’s complex?” You questioned, brows furrowed in confusion. “Dacre and I are photographers, and Trix and Skye are editors.” You tried your best not to sound rude, your hand flew up to rub the nape of your neck nervously.  
“Sorry.”

“No need,” Adrien shook his head. “I model here, but I enjoy the behind the scenes process too.” He shrugged, “so here I am!”

Indeed.


	2. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months following an incident that almost cost you your life, you find yourself participating in an exchange Arts Program in Paris, France. Not only do you struggle to pick up the pieces, but begin to regret impulsively moving all the way to Paris. Perhaps the insane temptation of those emerald eyes, tail, and flirtatious personality would make your move a bit easier.

_Chapter Two_

Late, Late, Late, Late, _Late! So fucking late!_

The week had flown by quicker than you were comfortable with, it was all a bit overwhelming. Your course seemed to be going well, but it was only the end of the first week so you expected the workload to pick up a bit. Work on the other hand, could you even call it that? You weren’t being paid, but you spent a lot of your spare time there when you weren’t studying. Dacre was a very wise and experienced photographer, it was admirable how elaborate and elegant his photos were. Your little friendship group had welcomed you with open arms and that was something you were seriously grateful for, it grounded you and made your first week in Paris easier. But anyway, you were _late_.

You leapt onto the steps leading up to the university, taking two steps at a time. As the steps balanced out to the remainder of the building, you huffed but kept running. You ran past a clock on the wall and you had mere minutes until class started, you’d definitely be the last one in. A few stragglers walked casually down the main hallway, the four of them walking in a line across the hall. As you neared, you recognised them as your friends but didn’t have the time to stop, nor would your momentum stop you.

“Hey, girl!” Alya called out as you ran past. You looked over your shoulder and offered the group a wave.

“Hey-” you were interrupted as you turned around to dodge another student, “-see you later!” And you were gone, skidding around the corner and to your class.

  
=======

  
The class was filled with the sound of quiet chatter and typing keyboards, you scrolled through your photo inventory on your computer. _Silhouettes…silhouettes…_Frustration pinched from within your chest, you didn’t have any previous work playing around with silhouettes. Your assignment for the week was to capture Paris’s streets, being sure to somehow focus and include a silhouette. Paris wasn’t the issue, you had no problem with the street art factor of the assignment; more so how to incorporate a striking silhouette. Clenching your first, the first batch of students began to pack up their belongings and check their watches. _Great_, what a waste of time.

Throughout your classes, you struggled to come up with any ideas. Paris was a work of art all in itself, but you just didn’t think your “ideas” would do Paris or the assignment justice. You continued to study and sift through examples in the library, tucked away in a corner. As much as you hated getting distracted, you practically leapt at the opportunity to check your phone when it buzzed.

_Dacre: what time are you coming in today?_

You took a moment to remember whether you had any classes after lunch; you had one.

_You: I have one more class, so early afternoon_.

_Dacre: Got something to work on? The workload is pretty light today._

You resisted the urge to sigh, light days were the longest. You preferred to distract yourself and focus on the work at hand. Fortunately and stubbornly, you had that pesky assignment to work on.

_You: Yep, lucky enough. Can I pick your mind later today?_

_Dacre: Boy troubles already? It’s only the end of your first week!_

  
You rolled your eyes at his attempt at teasing you and typed a quick response, you’d have to deal with him later today. As you left the chat, an unopened message glared at you from behind the screen, the words taunting an emotion out of you that you just _really_ didn’t want to deal with. With a face scrunched in discomfort, you slipped your phone away and left the library. Making your way to the cafeteria, you spotted your friends seated at their usual table. Walking past the food line completely to your table, as you neared their attention turned to you.

“Well, if it isn’t our own Road Runner,” Nino smirked. Everyone was having a crack today. You slipped down in your seat next to Adrien. Marinette was seated across from you and you offered the girl a tired smile.

“Did you oversleep or something?” Alya asked and you looked over to the brunette seated next to Marinette.

Truth is, you hadn’t slept at all until at least an hour before you had to get up. You barely made it to the metro on time, let alone in one piece.

“Something like that,” you groaned and swept a hand down your face, “thank god I left my gear at work.” Marinette laughed softly, watching you with kind eyes. You offered the girl another smile but your attention was short-lived as your ringtone shrilled. Pulling the device out, your mother’s name lit up the screen in bold writing; you switched the phone to vibrate and let it ring out.

“Everything okay?” Adrien asked quietly and you noticed the close proximity of the blond. The phone had stopped ringing and you felt the cloud in your mind begin to clear. You nodded silently and waited for the frustration to fade.

“Difficult parents,” You said tightly and you saw something spark in his eyes.

“Tell me about it.” He rolled his eyes and rested his elbow on the table, placing his cheek in the palm of his hand. “My father is a handful.”

You had heard all about Gabriel Agreste but you didn’t say anything. It felt nice knowing that he could confide in you too, at least it was something you had in common. Guilt struck deep in your gut, telling you that your mother only worried for and wanted the best for you. You knew that, and it was true. All you wanted was for her to understand where you were coming from.

“Is he the reason you model?” You asked and the model nodded with a straight face.

“I grew up doing stuff like that, amongst other things,” he explained, “I’ll always be involved in modelling but it’s not my passion.”

You felt that.

“Art?”

He nodded. You wouldn’t have picked Adrien as an art student at first, but the more you thought about it; the more it suited him. Your mind drifted to thinking about Adrien sketching in class, wondering what his forté was. _Perhaps it was live models, maybe he had a muse._ You felt your cheeks heat up and cleared your throat. _Nope. Not today._

“What about you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. You noticed how his hair fell over his eyes a little, Adrien was quick to brush the strand away.

“You’re looking at the top student in Human Biological Science.” You jerked a thumb in your direction, “if you have a question about Human evolution to hormones, I’m your gal.”

The blond laughed at your sarcasm, “you were going to be a doctor?”

You shook your head viciously, “_No_.”  
“I’d be a terrible doctor, but I might have done something like Pathology.”

  
Adrien smiled knowingly before leaning closer, “for what it’s worth, photography suits you better.” You blinked at the boy, catching the cheeky wink before he moved back to his original spot. _Well wasn’t that something_. Turning to face your friends again, you noticed Marinette eyeing Adrien suspiciously. _Maybe they had a thing?_ You immediately felt guilty, you didn’t even ask. _Some friend._ Out the corner of your eye, you spotted Adrien mouthing words to Marinette. _It looked like they had a thing._

Marinette rolled her eyes, oblivious to your observation and turned around in her chair to walk away. Taking the opportunity, you grabbed Adrien’s rubbish and followed her. You jogged up to Marinette and walked in-stride with her to the garbage bins

“Mari, I’m sorry if I overstepped in any way,” you apologised, “I didn’t know you and Adrien were a thing.”

Mari dug her heels into the ground and gawked at you,_ “Adrien?”_ You nodded, raising an eyebrow at her. Marinette blinked at you before bursting into laughter, this isn’t what you expected at all.

“Adrien and I are just good friends,” she said as she disposed of her rubbish, “we’ve been friends since we were fourteen.”

“Oh.”

“I guess you could say I was a bit infatuated with him when I was younger,” she cringed, “that was forever ago and I’ve moved on plenty of times since high school.”

Marinette watched you dispose of your - well Adrien’s - rubbish, a glint in her bluebell eyes. “Why did you feel the need to apologise?”

You froze. “I-i-” Marinette’s smile grew.

_“Nothing like that.”_ You grumbled and glared at the girl, “get your mind out of the gutter.”

_“What made you think it was in the gutter in the first place?”_

_“Mari!”_

  
Marinette and her mind-games. You kept repeating the conversation over and over in your mind, analysing the way she looked at you when you mentioned Adrien and when you reacted to her suggestions._ No way._  
Looking down at the pavement, you glanced at the pair of feet walking beside you. _Not happening._ Marinette’s teasing replayed in your mind as you watched Adrien softly kick a small rock as he neared it, the object bounced away in a random trajectory until it was no longer in your field of vision. You tore your attention away from the rock as your phone buzzed repetitively in your back pocket.

Sighing heavily, you ripped the device out and sent the caller straight to voicemail without even having to look at the name.

“Maybe you should talk to her?” Adrien suggested from beside you, “she might be worried.”

_Of course, she is, but she has no reason to be._

You looked at Adrien to see him walking with his head lowered, fixated on the ground. His hands were hidden in the depths of his jean pockets; a soft smile played on his lips. Even walking he looked incredibly handsome.

“I doubt it,” you shrugged him off, but part of you knew that you were overdue for a conversation with your mother. The two of you made it to work, making small talk along the way. As you passed the receptionist desk, your phone rang again. Adrien cast you a look over his shoulder and you glared at him with hooded eyes.

_“Fine.”_ You gritted and halted outside the office to pull out your phone.

“Hello?”

You mother gasped from the other side of the line and you already felt like hanging up. _Give her a chance._  
_“I was worried you wouldn’t pick up!”_

“Sorry, it’s been a busy week.” You said, watching Adrien’s form walk casually into the office. You leaned against the wall outside the office, crossing an arm across your chest. “How are you?”

_“I’m fine,”_ she answered quickly,_ “I just wanted to check-in and see how you’ve been doing.”_

For a little while, you gave your mother a recap of your first week in Paris and told her all about your new friends and Paris life. She asked something about masked heroes but you weren’t completely sure about all of that, so you just gave a vague answer.

“I haven’t seen or heard anything about them.” You told her, switching your phone to the other ear. “Maybe Paris is a safe place after all?”

_“Don’t do that-”_ she started but her voice caught in her throat, _“-I do feel better knowing that there are ‘superheroes’ looking out for Paris.”_

You hummed and thought nothing of it. Your life didn’t really seem like the kind to revolve around super villains and masked heroes. Like the last time, silence deafened what seemed like an already dead conversation. You felt bad that you weren’t trying as hard as your mother, but there was a reason you ended up all the way in Paris.

“I should go-” you cleared your throat, “-I have a lot of work to catch up on for Mr Agreste.”

Your mother sighed, _“are you sure you’re okay? Not working too hard?”_

“I’m fine.” You glared at the ground and lowered your voice.

_“I won’t apologise for caring about _**my daughter**_,”_ she seethed which took you aback, _“you’ve been evasive ever since you made the decision to move to Paris.”_

“I’m trying to move on.”

_“No, you’re running away from your problems, dear.”_ She tried to reason with you. You gritted your teeth and pushed away from the wall and marched further down the hall where you wouldn’t be heard by your friends.

_“Maybe it would be worth talking to someone while you are there-”_

“I don’t need help.” You said firmly, “I’m fine-”

_“Don’t you **dare** lie to me,”_ she said your name sternly you clamped your mouth shut. _“You think I don’t know my own daughter? That I don’t love you?”_

_“I waited by your bed for three days wondering if I had done something to encourage what you did.”_

“N-no, you could never-“

_“What’s done is done,”_ she cut you off, _“but if you think I’m going to stand by and watch you do it all over again **you have another thing coming.”**_

“_Fine!_ Fly all the way to Paris to babysit me for all I care!” You finally snapped, “but I’m not backing down. _I don’t need help.”_ And with that, you hung-up. Tears clouded your vision and you powered your phone down. You knew she was only looking out for you, but you couldn’t drag her through your shit again.

“Yikes, that smelt like raw angst.” Trixie poked her head around the doorway and raise a brow at you, “everything okay, newbie?”

You made a hasty attempt to wipe away the tears and nodded. Trixie beckoned you into the office and you complied, following her into the office. You could feel Adrien’s gaze burning into the back of your head but you purposely ignored him, flinging yourself into your desk chair and rested your head against the back of it. It was peaceful to just sit and close your eyes for a second.

“You should come out with us tonight,” Trixie said from Skye’s desk, leaning against it. “Dance it off.” You contemplated the idea, it had been a while since you went clubbing and you figured you should at least try clubbing in Paris once…

“You two handsome devils are invited too, of course.” Trixie glanced between Dacre and Adrien. You hadn’t noticed Dacre until his mop of blond hair poked out from behind his laptop screen, thick-framed gasses completely changing his face.

Dacre looked at you briefly before changing to Trixie, “maybe another night, Trix.”

“Yeah-“ Adrien added, “-lots of work to catch up on.”

Trixie shrugged like she could care less, “looks like it’s us four.”

=======

You looked down at the stamp on your wrist, indicating your admission to the nightclub. You watched Trixie’s pink hair disappear through the door. Skye placed a hand on your upper back reassuringly and you gave the boy a small smile. A strawberry blond male clasped the other hand of Skye and dragged him to the door, so you followed close behind. The red-head was Skye’s boyfriend, Elliot. Skye’s face lit up as he checked to make sure you were following. _Oh god…_

Inside the club, it was like dancing on the Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of electric blues, acid greens, hot pinks, and golden hues. The music resonated over the dance floor as if it had fused with the bodies. Trixie’s hair came back into view, accompanied by a wide grin and two drinks.

“Drink up, newbie!” She cheered, “here’s to losing our_ shit!”_ And down when the liquid, sweet and addictive. The blue liquid was gone quicker than it had arrived and soon you found yourself gravitating to the bar for a second, trying to hold out cash at a four deep bar hoping one of the only two bartenders notices you. You could barely see the dance floor so you used Trixie and Elliot’s hair as an indication for where the _hell_ you were. Once you felt your muscles being to relax, the familiar haze engulfed your mind; your thoughts simplifying to the present. Nothing else. It was wall to wall people dancing to the club music, there was no room for anyone else but somehow, Trixie pulled you to the floor and you let the crowd swallow you whole.

It was all grins, laughter. Trix spun you around as you moulded to the rhythm of the music. A little voice in your head taunted you that you looked like an idiot, but as if they could read your mind, Elliot and Skye appeared with more intoxicating delicacies. Soon enough, you didn’t care about the little voice. Inside you were just _happy. Happy_ and more alive than you could have ever felt sober. You felt the part that’s really you come out to play; to feel the vibe of the music and let your body go. In a way, this was the buzz you yearned for, numbing happiness that blocked out reality in one simple, brilliant moment of togetherness suspended in time. You watched Elliot lean closer to Skye, a hand on his waist as he gave his partner a feathery peck along his jaw. Averting your eyes, Trixie grabbed your hands and twirled your body along with hers. The girl had her eyes closed, completely and utterly sold to the music. The bass pounded through your feet, up your core and out through your chest. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would have been like if Dacre and Adrien had come. _Maybe we’d dance together._ Time slowed down, but the songs changed over too quick for you to comprehend, the volume drowning out the sound of your voice. The concussion of music blasted as the song switched again, reverberating through your chest cavity. You noticed a group of girls dancing together and another. Hundreds of people either yelling “_what_” at one another or pretending to hear what the other person actually said and laughing.

_Oh, of course._ You noticed Trixie was holding onto someone behind her, probably some douchebag who materialised out of thin air; rubbing his crotch on her behind whether she was aware of it or not. Skye made his way through the crowded mess to Trixie, pushing his way between the stranger and his friend. Watching Skye create a barricade around his friend who continued to dance obliviously warmed your intoxicated heart. When you dance in a crowd, or just wade through one, a hand or few always reaches out from between gyrating bodies, cop a feel, and vanish as quickly as it appeared. Trixie was lucky to have Skye. You loved the quiet life, but you relished the crazy fun times. Music, good friends, good times, dance. After tonight you could focus, do your job, complete your course and finally move on with your life. Tonight, your soul could relish in the ocean of drunken decisions and slurred lyrics.

  
At the end of the night, the dance floor looked like an abused chessboard. On the trampled black and white squares were spilt drinks and broken glass. You could vaguely remember people spilling beer, and the smell of Mary Jane in the air; just to name a few. With the lights up for a cleanup, the whole scene that seemed so exciting and sexual merely minutes before now all had the ambience of a dirty bathroom stall. The painted-on smiles of the staff now sagged as the last of the night-owls left the club; sagged into the epitome of exhaustion and no-one could wait for the night to end.

“It was really nice meeting you,” Elliot beamed down at you, his long arms enclosed you in a wobbly hug which you returned.

“You too, Elliot,” you gave the red-head a dopey smile as you saw Skye lean into him. Trixie, out of nowhere, hooked your arms together and pulled; throwing you off-guard.

“We definitely have to do this again,” Trixie enthused, her eyes glassy and distant. You laughed with the girl and made a group chat consisting of yourself, Trixie, Skye and Elliot. “I’ll call it the _Panty Droppers.”_

“Jesus, Trix.” Skye scoffed as his phone lit up with the notification of his new social circle. Your phone followed in suit, along with Elliot’s.

The light emitted from your phone scalded your eyes, the time showed you had merely three hours until your alarm was due to go off. “I think I’ll be off.” You spoke slowly, “I should find my way to metro while there are people around.”

Elliot and Skye offered to walk you there, but you kindly declined. It would be good to get some fresh air after being boxed in for hours, not that you didn’t enjoy it! It was the best night of your life. _In ten years I'll still remember tonight,_ you thought to yourself,  
Bidding your friends farewell, you began to walk in the direction of the metro. As you walked, other night stragglers tapered off in their own direction until you were the only one left.

“So much for not walking alone,” you muttered to yourself but you continued. There was no point going back to find your friends now, the metro wasn’t too far away. Your shoes tapped against the pavement and you held your arms closer to your body as if to shield yourself from the wind that nipped at your neck, seeping through your clothes. You weren’t sure if it was your drunken mind playing tricks on your, but you swore you could hear your footsteps echoing. The street was empty and dimly lit, so you just assumed it was your mind.

_Until a silhouette appeared from beneath a broken lamp-post..._  
Your heart leapt into your throat, you tried squinting to get a better look at the stranger but was proven futile as a pair of luminescent green eyes met yours.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” you sighed as the stranger stepped out of the dark, the pale light casting a weak shadow over the skin-tight suit of who you assumed what an absolute nut-case. Before you stood a boy in a textured black skin-tight catsuit with metal details. He wore matching gloves with claws on the fingertips and boots. The golden bell on his neck gleamed, connected to a zipper at the front of his outfit. Your eyes travelled down to the long belt that wrapped securely around his waist, hanging out the back like a tail.

“My eyes are up here, darling,” his voice smoothly lured. Reluctantly, you looked up. He wore black cat ears and a black mask around his eyes that held a very cat-like resemblance with green sclerae, dark green irises and oval pupils. The stranger smirked at you through hooded eyes, his blond hair long and untamed, covering what you hoped was his normal ears.

“I’ve definitely been spiked,” you said to nobody in particular. Laughter erupted from the stranger, his small white fangs teased you from afar.

“Not quite,” he approached you slowly, his muscles moving deliciously beneath the material of his suit. “But I do question what made you think walking around this early in the morning was a good idea.”

You tried to walk past the cat boy, giving him a not-so-slick side-eye. “I’m just on my way to the metro.”

Your body collided with a hard chest, peering up to see the same emerald eyes looking down at you. The boy leaned down, his nose brushing yours. “Alone?” He whispered, his voice low and rasped. Your breath hitched in your throat and you went to take a step back but couldn’t find the will.

“You're quite picture-perfect, aren't ya?"

The boy narrowed his eyes at you, the mask moving with it. _This was some intricate costume._

“Perhaps I should escort you home?” He shrugged one shoulder, watching you intently. “Can’t have something bad happening on my watch.”

You scoffed at his confidence and noticed his eyes widen slightly at your reaction. “What are you, like a superhero?”

_“Just your knight in shining armour, ma chérie,”_ he held out his hand and a black ring caught your eye, a cute bright green paw on the face of the jewel. You yawned, the alcohol starting to slow the buzz and lull you into a sleepy trance. When you didn’t respond, he grasped your hand gently and pulled you closer. Without giving you time to object, he lifted you up as if you weighed nothing.

“Hey!” You gawked, trying to push him away, “manipulated yes isn’t consent.”

The green-eyed stranger blinked at you as he processed your words. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” he said.

“Get your arm off me-“ you were cut off as he drew out a metal baton from behind his back. _What the shit._ The baton extended, lifting you both into the air and your stomach churned as the pavement appeared smaller and smaller. You gripped the stranger tighter, the heat of his body radiating through to yours. A strong shiver travelled down your spine as he whispered in your ear.

“Hold on tight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I.Need.Sleep.


	3. Chaton and Cat Puns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months following an incident that almost cost you your life, you find yourself participating in an exchange Arts Program in Paris, France. Not only do you struggle to pick up the pieces, but begin to regret impulsively moving all the way to Paris. Perhaps the insane temptation of those emerald eyes, tail, and flirtatious personality would make your move a bit easier.

_Chapter Three_

You wrapped yourself up in the duvet, waves of nausea adding to your misery. Your phone pinged with message after message, none of them important at the moment. The hangover felt like a balloon, swelling beyond capacity of your skull. Dehydration screamed at you, becoming too strong to ignore. Hauling yourself out of bed, you saw one shoe under your desk, the other at the door. You considered crawling to the kitchen, but your stomach lurched grotesquely at any major movement. Perhaps some painkillers would help too, maybe when the gurgling ceased enough to guarantee they would actually stay down. Raising your heavy eyelids, they only made it halfway for them to fall shut again. You hadn’t even made it off the bed yet and your toes tingled at the feeling of the cold wooden panels. The splitting headache over-powered the layer of dry saliva at the roof of your mouth and the corners of your lips. Once on your feet, the room seemed to sway, causing you to lose balance.

You reached out for the small table to the side of your bed, your fingers contacting cold glass. There sat a glass of water and a small note. Your hand slipped from the nightstand and your weight toppled forward, so you sprawled onto the floor with a thump. Once the room stopped spinning, you attempted to pull yourself up to standing. It had been a while since you had struggled this much, meaning you had partied _hard_. You must have had fun, but somehow, not all of it was there in your memory. You did, however, remember the note on the nightstand and made an effort to read it.

_ Good Morning, chérie I hope you managed to get some sleep and rehydrate yourself. I couldn’t find any painkillers, but be sure to drink lots of water._

_ -Chat Noir  
P.S. I’ll be back later to see those photos!_

Chat Noir? Photos? _What? _

You immediately looked over at your computer, your camera plugged into the device via a long cord. You heart skipped a beat. What photos were on your computer? With the note semi-scrunched in one hand, you shuffled over to your desk and took a seat. Tapping on the keyboard, the screen lit up and you immediately adjusted the screen brightness to accommodate the tightness behind your eyes.

“Oh my go-”

On the screen were probably fifty-odd photographs of Chat Noir. You vaguely remembered the green eyes of the guy, and his _costume_. You recognised the location as the street just outside your apartment complex, a lamppost softly lit a small section of the footpath. In the spotlight stood the striking silhouette of your mystery model. Their back was facing you, shoulder leaning against the lamppost lazily. You skimmed through a few others, in some he was looking at you over his shoulder ever-so-slightly; in another he was just standing under the dim light. It was perfect.

_“Oop-” his hand lingered on your waist as you sorted your feet out. “Alright?”_

_You stared at the shiny bell on his neck, “yup,” you responded, popping the ‘p’. The blond chuckled softly and let go of you. You kept a hand on his bicep until you could figure out where you were._

_“That was fun,” you said lazily, “_we_ should do it again sometime.”_

_You stepped away from the stranger and towards the lamppost that stood outside your apartment complex_. _Turning around, you met the vibrant green eyes of your companion. His eyes focused on you for a moment longer before looking towards your apartment._

_“Let’s get you to bed, Chérie.” He coaxed, tilting his head in the direction of the familiar building. You smiled widely at him, hugging the lamppost. The boy narrowed his eyes at you as you leaned back to swing around the pole, head tilting back._

_“You _wish_.” You responded, not looking at the boy. You felt his presence grow beside you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Looking at the ground, you could see his shadow directly behind yours and his ears stood prominent atop his head._

_“Can you hear with those?”_

_The blond hummed, “everything.”_

_You didn’t know why, but that sounded like it meant more than it showed. Smirking to yourself, you let it go, but not the pole. Reminiscing on your night, each drink seemed like a better and better idea that night. Jokes became funnier. _I’m practically a comedian_, you thought to yourself. Bravery held you tightly and you turned around to face the blond, his green eyes meeting yours instantly. You noticed how the soft light casted __a weak shadow across his masked face, and your attention didn’t go unnoticed. He leaned a little closer to you, his lips ghosting your ear._

_“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”_

That must have been how it started. In a way, you were happy you managed to break the ice with this assignment. But you were also a little hesitant regarding _how_ you did it. Chat’s eyes bored into the camera lens, his eyes burning a hole through the screen. You felt a familiar heaviness in your chest cavity, but it began to dissolve when you came to a particular photo. Chat had turned around fully, obviously not posing for the camera anymore. His shoulders were relaxed and his hooded eyes gleamed, a wide smile plastered across his face. It looked as if he hadn’t expected this photo to be taken, a truer form to your mystery model captured in a moment of pure bliss.

You had to look away from your computer before you got too distracted, _this was purely for your assignment. However it came about._ You proceeded to select out the better shots and saved them to a separate file for editing later on, perhaps Chat would be open to some re-shoots? The screen had taken its toll on your poor eyes and you closed your laptop. You needed a break. The image of Chat’s luring eyes looking into the camera lingered in your mind as you made your way into the kitchen.

A huge nap and multiple litres of water later, the headache began to slowly fade. The balloon beneath your cerebellum began to decrease in pressure, allowing you to think a litter bit clearer. When you had the courage, you unlocked your phone to see multiple new messages from the group chat Trixie had made that night.

_Trixie: see y’all next weekend for round 2! _

_Skye: See you at work Monday, 8:30 sharp -.-_

You munched on a slice of toast as you lumbered to the bathroom, maybe a shower would help you get your shit together. Fast forward, the hot water was now your best friend. Period. Friday night had really been a blast, and it was a shame Dacre and Adrien couldn’t come. Now that you think about it, you weren’t so sure a nightclub was really their scene. Adrien was a quiet guy who seemed like he would enjoy a movie night at home instead; not that you were complaining at all. You weren’t completely certain about Dacre either, perhaps he enjoyed the chaotic life but never gave himself the chance because he was too busy living and breathing work…

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a faint banging elsewhere in the apartment. Shutting the water off, you froze for a moment to listen out and your blood ran cold when you heard the banging again. _Like hell I’m going to be found dead like this._ Hurrying out of the shower, you clambered into your fresh clothes; the fabric of the clothes sticking to your still wet skin uncomfortably. Your phone was ready to call the authorities and you peaked out into the hallway, nobody was there.

_This is how everyone gets killed in horror movies, _you freaked_, they go **towards** the damn sounds_.

Cursing to yourself, you heard clattering from the direction of your bedroom. You took a detour to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing you saw in the drawers, a rolling pin. _Lovely_. The clattering halted as you stood at the doorway to you room, your heart just about ready to leap out your mouth at this point. A shadow moved from the doorway, the form behind the shadow moving towards you. Your sweaty palms tightened around the rolling pin and you leaned against the wall for a little support. Just as the stranger walked through the doorway, you struck.

You didn’t know whether to scream or pass out then and there, but as you swung, a hand caught the rolling pin and pushed back. You body stumbled back into the wall, the rolling pin pressed up against your chest. Glaring green eyes softened as they recognised you.

_“Chat?”_ You gawked at him, his eyes wide. How did he get in?

_“Chérie,”_ Chat sighed heavily, his shoulders relaxing, “what’s with the rolling pin?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still pressed against the wall, “I thought someone had broken in,” you responded and the cat boy looked at you apologetically.

“_Désolé_,” Chat said softly and searched your face for any injury, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head, “what are you doing here anyway?”

Chat’s expression changed almost instantly, mischief clear as day. You were suddenly more away of the situation you were in. _Yikes_. Chat leaned in and looked you in the eye, you leaned your head back against the wall as much as you could but to no avail. His nose brushed yours and you squeaked, clamping your mouth shut as the peculiar noise took you by surprise.

Satisfied, Chat smirked. “I’m here to see the photos.” He pushed away from the wall, releasing his hold on you and the rolling pin. You watched him walk back into your room, clutching onto the rolling pin for a moment longer until your heart stopped beating so fast.

“Right,” you mumbled and hurried into your room. Chat was seated atop your desk and you fought down a scowl as he flashed an innocent smile your way. You showed Chat the raw photos, all fifty of them. Chat scanned through each one with a knowing eye, humming and nodding every so often.

“These are the ones I’ve narrowed down,” you said to him, opening a folder which narrowed the fifty down to ten. “I’ll edit all of them, then narrow them down again.”

“Can’t you submit them all?” Chat smirked at the screen and you rolled your eyes. _That would do wonders for his ego._

“You wish.”

He chuckled from beside you, heat radiating from within his suit. You did your best to ignore the close proximity of him looking over your shoulder. You started fiddling around with the first photo, depicting Chat leaning against the lamppost with his face hidden. Sharpening the photo and increasing the definition, you compared with the original before moving on. The photo was already pale due to the lighting, but you transferred the photo to a black and white format anyways. After adjusting the curves, RGB levels and lighting, you compared the edited photo with the original.

“It looks great, _chérie_.” Chat complimented and you looked at him, a soft smile toying on your lips.

You leaned back in your chair, “to be completely honest - I don’t really remember taking these.” Chat’s face crinkled in laughter.

“You were very excited,” he told you, “blabbering on about an assignment you couldn’t figure out…” He looked at you and offered a smile. Embarrassment grasped you and you ran a hand down your face, groaning unpleasantly.

“I’m so sorry.”

Chat shook his head quickly, his forehead creasing.“It was my pleasure,” he looked at you through his lashes, “especially if you produce photos like these.”

You laughed dryly, “maybe they’d be of better quality if I was sober.”

“Let’s do a re-shoot, then!” Chat suggested, moving off of your desk. “We’ll set a day you’d like to re-take these photos and I’ll be there.” You raised a brow at the boy, his enthusiasm suspicious. He stood by your desk, hip propped against the furniture. Looking between the computer and your model, you weighed up your options. _As if you’re actually going to say no. _

“Alright,” you agreed and Chat’s face lit up with excitement. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a few close-ups first.”

Chat nodded understandingly and turned to walk towards your window, but you managed to catch the smirk. Unplugging your camera, you adjusted your lenses and followed suit. Chat sat on the window sill, the natural light highlighted his frame and shone through his hair like silky gold. You focused on his face, taking photos of his eyes, lips, nose, and all the features that structured his handsome face. It took a lot in you to suppress the sigh fighting its way out as he looked neutrally into the camera, clear green eyes. Taking a break from his face, you photographed his shoulders, neckline, his bell and hands. You noticed he wore matching gloves that have claws on the fingertips. He also wore boots with a hidden wedge, silver toes and paw-shaped treads.

“Fan of heels, are we?” You teased, looking back at a few of the photos.

“How else am I supposed to look taller than Ladybug?” He scoffed jokingly, dusting a shoulder off.

You remembered reading about Ladybug on (funny enough) Alya’s blog, years and years of information brought you up to speed too.

“Shouldn’t you be out fighting _akumas_?” You asked with your eyes locked on the display screen of your camera. You heard Chat yawn.

“The akumas come to us, _chérie_,” he said mid-yawn, “M’lady doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to Akuma attacks.” He adjusted his seating on the window sill. “Besides, your safety is guaranteed with me around.”

Your eyes snapped up to see Chat flexing his biceps. You rolled your eyes to distract yourself from the smile tugging at your lips.

=======

You didn’t see Chat for the remainder of the weekend as you were still trying to juggle planning your assignment and the upcoming photoshoot at Gabriel’s company. Skye had brought it to your attention in the group chat, filling you in on the information when you realised you had no clue about the photoshoot.

“_Salut_, Alya!” You waved to the brunette as you and Marinette left campus.

“Good-luck!” Alya called and made her way towards her next class. Mari was assisting with the shoot as fashion assistant, and frankly you were really nervous, so having Mari with you was comforting.

“You’ll be fine,” Mari reassured you sweetly, “your team is great at what they do!” You didn’t doubt that at all.

You smiled and looked over at the company in all its pride and glory. Mari greeted the women at reception, as did you before following the girl into your office. Dacre was leaning over Trixie’s shoulder, pointing to her computer screen. The pink-haired girl had her chin propped in the palm of her hand, focused on the screen as Dacre said something and pushed his glasses up his nose. Skye was talking to Adrien to the side of Trixie’s desk, his hands flying around in gestures as he spoke.

Marinette saying your name brought your attention back to her, “everything okay?” Her bluebell eyes scanned your face.

You nodded, “I’ll be fine.”

“Dacre will guide you through the whole shoot,” Marinette placed a hand on your shoulder as the two of you walked over to Trixie’s desk, “we’re not throwing you in the deep end yet.”

Dacre looked up at the two of you and smiled, “afternoon.” The blond straightened up and Trixie closed her laptop and stood up with him, “ready for the shoot?”

“Definitely,” Marinette answered for you, a nervous smile on your face. Adrien and Skye joined the conversation, Adrien dressed in a plain white shirt and vintage denim jeans. So casual, but worked well on him. Marinette excused herself to finalise a few things before the shoot, so the rest of you collected your gear and began to make your way to set.

Dacre fell into stride beside you, “there’s no need to be nervous.”

You looked over at him, his gaze focused on the hallway in-front of him. In all honesty, you were nervous about letting the team down. You wanted to do good by them.

“I don’t want to let you down,” you confessed and fiddled with the strap of your camera bag.

Dacre chuckled from beside you, looking at you with a grin that reached his eyes. “It’ll be me who lets you down, love,” he tells you, “we’re working together on this, so let’s help each other.” You nodded at the blond, your spirits lifting slightly. As you all reached the end of the hallway, Dacre opened a door that led to a beautiful white room. With Adrien and Skye following close behind, you got to work setting up your equipment. Mari rushed into the room moments later with multiple outfits for what assumed was for Adrien.

Over the next two hours, Dacre guided you through the entire photoshoot. He showed you how to use some of the company’s equipment, and how to improve performance of your own. Adrien was very patient also, posing for photos longer than necessary until you found your speed. Skye altered the lighting depending on the theme and outfit, whilst Trixie starting skimming through the photographs. Whenever Adrien went to change outfits, you would confide to Dacre for pointers and ask as many questions you could. If there did come a time you were thrown into the deep end, you wanted to feel _somewhat_ prepared.

“This is the last one,” Marinette announced as Adrien stepped out from behind the dressing room. He wore a navy blue turtle neck and slacks, with brown dress shoes and belt to match. You swallowed dry as the model walked back into frame, the white background behind him a stark contrast to his outfit. His blond hair was brushed back, revealing a little more forehead.

“Scandalous,” Trixie whistled.

Instead of letting it get to you, you listened to Dacre’s instructions and began to take continuous shots. The final shoot was quicker as you were starting to get the hang of it, and soon it was all over. Skye started turning the lights off before making his way over to Trixie to get to work.

“You did a great job today,” Adrien grinned at you. You were packing up your gear when he approached you, handing you a piece of equipment.

“Thanks,” you sighed, “I would’ve struggled if you guys weren’t so patient and understanding.” Adrien gave a gentle shrug and put his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“You were picked for a reason.”

You looked at Adrien who was slinging half of your gear onto his shoulder. In an attempt to take the gear from him, he straightened himself out to his full height and turned away from you. You smiled warmly at the blond and gathered the rest of your gear. The photoshoot was just the beginning, there was still filtering through hundreds of raw photos and picking out the better shots for editing. Then you had to submit them for publishing, and if they were rejected you had to undergo the process all over again.

“Everything okay?” Marinette asked with a raised brow.

“Just thinking about the editing process now,” you told her and she smiled tightly.

“When are the final photos due?” Mari asked nobody in particular. Adrien looked towards Dacre who was already leaving the room.

“Uh-” he narrowed his eyes before answering, “-next Monday.”

Jesus, only a week? You clenched your jaw and quickened your pace towards the office, time to get cracking. Marinette called after you, but it was followed by laughter so you didn’t worry about it too much.

By the time the sun began to set, Marinette was heading home with what seemed like an everlasting smile on her face. Adrien had left not long after the shoot finished.

“Don’t work too hard, okay?” Mari said to you, pecking you on each cheek. You returned the gesture and hugged the girl.

“I won’t.” You told her.

Not long after Mari left, Trixie and Skye departed too. Elliot poked his head through the doorway, knocking on the wall. Dacre didn’t look up from his computer screen, but still said hello to the red-head. Skye’s pace quickened when Elliot arrived, the smile on his face grew with anticipation until they were out the door. Trixie blew you a kiss and waved at Dacre, and like the lovers before her - she was out the door. That left you and Dacre in a comfortable silence as the two of you focused on the work at hand. You weren’t sure how heavy the work load was going to be this week, so you figured it was better to get ahead now to avoid any unwanted surprises later on.

Dacre had split the photos in half, making the workload for the two of you easier. Time flew by as you skimmed through photo after photo, filtering through ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely not’. Adrien looked amazing in each photo, it was just a matter of lighting or the quality of the photo. _My hands were shaking so hard in this photo_, you cursed inwardly as you sorted a set of photos into the ‘no’ section.

“I think I’m going to head home,” Dacre broke the silence with a yawn.You looked at the time on your computer, it was leading into the double digits.

“Thanks for your help today,” you said to him and he waved you off as he stifled another yawn. _He worked so hard._

“You’re here for a reason, give yourself some credit.” He walked over to you with laptop in hand, “don’t stay too late.”

“The metro won’t close for a few more hours,” Dacre gave you a stern look, “I’ll finish up soon!”

Not quite believing you, he nodded hesitantly. You exchanged gestures of farewell, and you watched his frame exit the office and towards the main entrance, “don’t forget to lock up!” His voice echoed from reception.

“Yes, sir!” You called back as you finalised another photo for editing.

Silence engulfed the office, and you felt more confined alone than you did when your friends were with you. Majority of the photos had been sorted, so you started to edit a few of them.

_ Fix this, change that. Something’s missing._ You pestered yourself with each photo, some taking more than others as you would over-edit them and have to restart. You hands opened and closed tightly as you restarted another photo, it looked too _edited_. You starting the process again, being hesitant towards the editing tools until you were satisfied.

_Just click done. Click it._ The mouse hovered over the ‘done’ button, and you scanned over the image once more. It was a portrait of Adrien’s side profile, and you were trying to fiddle with the curves of the image to emphasise the shadow under his jawline, as well as the vibrant yellow shirt he wore. You couldn’t find a balance and it threw the whole photo off.

You were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. Marinette's face flashed on the lock screen and you hastily answered it.

_“Allô?”_

_“Are you still at Gabriel’s company?”_

“Uh-” Your silence was enough for Marinette, hearing her tsk through the phone line.

“I’m just finishing up soon, Mari.” You reasoned with her, flicking to a new photo.

_ “I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard,”_ Marinette sighed and you could almost picture the girl sitting in bed, tired eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I know-“ you said, pinching the bridge of your own nose, “-I just can’t risk falling behind.”

_ Maybe they chose you out of pity._

_Just move it a little upwards. _

_Increase the definition._

_“If you tire yourself out, not only will you fall behind, but you won’t even get the chance to catch up.”_

The computer loaded and the colours in the photo adjusted to the settings, the photo once again looking fake and overly processed.

“_Fuck_.” You cursed and slammed a fist down on the desk. You flicked through previously edited photos, criticising different things in all of them. _Dacre would be ashamed._ Your eyes began to burn as your fists started to shake.

_“You okay?”_

Marinette was right.

_ You’re ruining this for everyone._

_You’ll ruin Adrien’s reputation._ You chided yourself, _how narcissistic. As if you’re good enough to do that, even._

“_Oui_, Mari,” you took a deep breath, “_désolé_, you’re right.”

_“Are you going be okay getting home by yourself?”_ She asked, concern evident in her voice and it made your heart swell for your new friend.

“I’ll message you when I get home,” your voice just audible. Mari bade you goodnight and you hung up.

Your chest cavity felt heavy, shoulders tense as though you had been winded. Your deep breaths turned into sharp and shallow gasps, the burning in your eyes growing like diesel being thrown onto a fire. One final look at your computer and you lost it, the feeling in your chest exploded and you let out a heavy sob. Pushing your chair away from the desk, you covered your face with your hands and hovered there for a moment, tears trickling down your cheeks. You tried to fight the feeling but it only tightened around you, bringing more tears. So you let yourself cry.

Much like Cinderella, you changed back at midnight. You eyes had stopped leaking, leaving a trail of dried tears on your cheeks. You could feel small bags underneath your eyes, there was nothing you could do about that but go to sleep. You gathered your gear and left the office, locking up as you went. Pulling your jumper closer to your body, you descended down the steps of Gabriel’s company.

“You’re quite the night-owl, aren’t you, _chérie_?” The familiar voice joked from behind you, making you jump

_“Jesus, Chat.”_ You hissed and turned to look at him. The mysterious car boy was leaning against one of the pillars of Gabriel’s company, arms crossed over his chest. As you looked at him, he turned his gaze to his feet with a small frown gracing his face

“Is everything okay?” He didn’t look at you and the question made you turn away from him.

“Yeah, just wanted to get ahead.” You mumbled, reaching up to feel underneath your eyes. _Not visible_. “What are you doing here?”

Chat used his foot to push himself away from the pillar, slowly walking towards you. “I stopped by your apartment to see how you were doing and when you weren’t there, I had a feeling you’d be here.” When he reached your side, he offered you a soft smile. You couldn’t help but return the gesture, thankful for his company.

“You stopped by my apartment?” You smiled and Chat looked away from you quickly, your smile growing steadily.

“Can I walk you home, _chérie_?”

You were keen to enjoy Chat’s company, but just weren’t in the mood to talk about your late night antics. “I have to catch the metro, Chat.”

At your response, Chat smirked and reached out to gently grasp your hand. His claws tickled the back of your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. You stepped closer to him, his other hand wrapping around your waist. _Here we go again._ The journey home was silent, Chat using his baton to transport the two of you through Paris. As you were lifted into the air again, your stomach flipped as the ground appeared smaller and smaller, but the cool wind opened your mind and chest; chilling the numbing feeling that slowly clouded your mind. You sighed and rested your head in the nape of Chat’s neck and he shivered. _At least it was good to know you had that effect on him too._ You closed your eyes and held on as small strands of Chat’s hair feathered your face.

The ground grew closer and you planted your feet, Chat releasing his hold on you.

“_Merci_,” you said absently, your hands dug into the pockets of your jumper. Chat remained close as the two of you walked the rest of the way. You walked in silence until you noticed Chat’s growing restlessness.

_ Maybe he’s getting tired of you. _

“How’s your weekend been, _Chaton_?” You asked in a calm, unhurried voice in hopes it would have there same affect on Chat. Out the corner of your eye, you spotted him glance at you agape for a moment before he recollected himself.

“I guess you could say it’s be pretty _pawsome_,” he said playfully, a contagiously wide grin on his face. You nudged him with your shoulder, smiling at the ground. You proceeded to listen to Chat talking about his weekend, another encounter with an akuma and another triumph with Ladybug.

“-turns out it was the old lady who sells bouquets by the Seine-“ Chat continued telling you about his battle with Paris’s latest akuma victim, “I thought I was only allergic to feathers, _chérie_. But when she blew that nasty pollen in my face, I couldn’t stop sneezing.” His nose crinkled at the thought of it, making you smile a little.

“That sounds _clawful, Chaton._” You smirked and the blond looked down at you, his turn to nudge you with his shoulder. You turned into your apartment complex, the masked hero following close behind, still talking; not that you minded at all. Once in your apartment, Chat had switched from the topic of his recent battle to his feather allergy.

“Did you ever have to fight a feather-based villain?” You asked him, taking a seat at your desk.

You heard Chat hum from behind you. “Years ago, his name was Mr. Pigeon,”

Chat approached you, his presence creeping closer. “_Chérie_, it’s really late.” His claws tickled the nape of your neck and you rolled your shoulders around to refrain from giggling like a school girl.

“Just a few more minutes-” you went to excuse him but didn’t have the chance to finish. Chat had reached over you and closed your laptop. In one swift movement, he lifted you out of your desk chair and plopped you down onto your bed. Chat laid down on the bed beside you, propped up on his elbow.

You glared playfully at the boy, a childish grin was all you got in return. Chat cupped his cheek and watched as you nestled down. The weights on under your eyes finally began to feel heavy, hooding your eyes.

“Tell me more about-“ you poorly stifled a yawn and Chat titled his head as he smiled at you, “-Mr. Pigeon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll go through an edit it properly tomorrow, I really wanted to get this chapter out :D

**Author's Note:**

> heheheheheeerree we goooo!


End file.
